


The Little Things

by LoonyLupin



Series: First and Commander: Namira Lavellan x Cullen Rutherford [4]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Romantic Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-25
Updated: 2015-02-25
Packaged: 2018-03-15 01:19:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3432752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoonyLupin/pseuds/LoonyLupin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cullen likes having the Herald around.  Is that such a crime?</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Little Things

It's nothing in particular, only the little things, that makes Cullen like having the Herald around.

Lavellan is small and light and nimble.  He watches the way she slips through the ranks of his green soldiers to speak to him.  Though she's a mage she moves more like a shadow, avoiding clumsy parries and shield blocks as if it's second nature.  He supposes it must be due to her being an elf.

She talks to him and she's a little odd sometimes.  He's not sure if it's the Dalish part of her or the mage part of her that sometimes gets him on the defensive, but she's quick to defuse the tension with a smile and a self-deprecating laugh.  Though sometimes it seems as if that brings tension of a different sort, a thought he squashes down before it can be named.

He sees the way she takes shelter sometimes in the treeline just outside Haven.  She seems to like being alone, something they have in common, though there's rarely the time for it these days.  She skips up boulders to find a spot where she can crouch and watch the roiling breach in the sky from beneath the shade of ancient pines.  She watches the world above but he finds himself watching her.  When she leaves the trees, heading back into camp with the green-tinged sunset, she often sidles by to say goodnight to him.  He likes it.  It's something small but it makes the place seem like home.

Then there's a battle and smoke and flame, the copper scent of blood and the cries of civilians, the blood-chilling roar of a dragon and the crazed glint of templars impossibly, terribly red.  Lavellan tells him to take the others and leave, that she will make a stand against the monster.  He's sick with guilt.  He should've seen this coming.

 _It should be me_ , he wants to say but doesn't. But the people need a leader for their journey and when he hesitates, Lavellan puts a hand on his arm and pushes.  "Go, go!"  

With the people looking to him, he leads them through a winding mountain pass to safety.  And when Lavellan appears, half-frostbitten, shivering and injured at the top of the snowy crest he is even more relieved than he expected.

The camp sings to her and she stands tall for the challenge and their support, though she does not quite reach his chest when they stand side by side.  Cullen's proud of her, but can't seem to put it into words.

Instead when she retires to her bedroll, exhausted from the talks, he stops by with a cup of hot tea from one of the camp cooks.  It warms his hands through his gloves.  He won't miss these damn mountains and their snow.  She looks up at him, smiling despite how sleepy she looks, and props herself up on one arm.

"That smells lovely," she says.  "I'll have to grab some in the morning.  Peppermint with a hint of elfweed?"

"Oh!" he says, somehow startled.  "Yes, peppermint and elfweed tea.  I meant it for you.  You looked as if you needed it, after... Well, everything."  He kneels beside her, careful not to spill it, and she reaches out.  As she takes the cup her small hands wrap over his for just a moment before she lets him go.  He swallows.

"Thank you, Cullen," she says, and the warmth of her smile for him fights off the cold better than the tea.

"You ought to get some more rest," he says softly.  "It's been -- well, you know what kind of day it's been."

She laughs.  He likes her laugh, he realizes.  It's always honest.  

"You don't have to tell me twice," she says.  "Thank you again.  For the tea.  For getting so many of our people to safety.  For everything."

"This isn't a dismissal, is it?" Cullen asks, the edge of his mouth pulling into a smile.

She takes a sip of tea to hide her grin, tilts her head to the side just so.  "Of course not.  I'd miss having you around."

There's that warmth again, filling his chest.  He looks at her for a moment, maybe longer than he should.  Tired eyes still keen and bright.  Her hair mussed and a little tangled.  The curve of her body leaning forward to huddle against the tea.  She's looking at him, expecting him to reply.

"I'd miss you too," he says, and he tries to say it lightly with a laugh and a shrug, but the words seem to weigh more than he means them to.  She looks a little pinker than before.  Must be the heat from the tea.

He lets her be to drink her tea and returns to the fireside.  The flames flicker restlessly.  He sees Varric warming his hands and watching him with a curious expression on his face.

"All right, Varric?" Cullen asks, crossing his arms.

"I'm fine," says Varric.  "It just looks like - nah, I won't say."

"What?" asks Cullen, nettled.

Varric grins.  "You show great concern for our Herald."

"And why shouldn't I?  She nearly died today," says Cullen, more sharply than he expects.  He shifts his weight from side to side, restless as the firelight.

"No one's saying you shouldn't!" Varric says, holding up a hand.  "It's just that I don't see anyone else tucking Lavellan into bed.  Very gallant of you."  His grin widens.

Cullen opens his mouth to speak, then glances back to where Lavellan's bedsite is across the way.  She's finishing the tea.  She sees him looking and waves at him, then sets the cup down and burrows into her blankets.  Cullen waves back, a quick motion of a gloved hand, and realizes he is blushing scarlet.

"I - I've things to do," says Cullen quickly.  "Another time, Varric."  He hurries off to another part of camp, leaving the dwarf quietly chuckling to himself.

His footsteps crunch in the snow, heavy boots sinking deep.  Really, he doesn't know what the fuss is about.  It was just a little thing, just a cup of tea and a few well-wishes.  After the sort of day they'd had he would do the same for anyone, wouldn't he?

Yet he's not sure of the answer, and Lavellan's smile and her laugh are on his mind the rest of the evening.  Late that night he grabs a few hours of broken sleep, and when he dreams, he dreams of a small elf-woman taking his hands.  It's just another of those little things, he tries to tell himself in the morning.  

But it's beginning to feel like something more.

 

**Author's Note:**

> *jumps full bore into this ship because CUTENESS and then later angst and oh man I can't wait*


End file.
